Results
by Aurenna
Summary: Cameron's HIV test was positive, and House's attention is focused on how she reacts. She's always been a favourite subject of study for him. For Cameron, life is suddenly about how much she can get out of it without anyone getting hurt.
1. Chapter 1

So, hi.

I've recently fallen back in with fanfiction. I found the app, looked back at some old favourites, re-read some for the first time in _ten years_ , and found myself thinking about House and Cameron.

There are a lot of _what ifs_ about those two. Two of the big ones, for me, are the moment when the gunman walked into the conference room and House said " _the skinny brunette_ ", and Cameron's HIV status post- _Hunting_. This story is about the latter.

It's been a long-ass time since I sat down and watched the series. I'm working from scenes and memories. I need to go back and re-watch it all. So if I get something wrong, something in the wrong order, get a minor character's name wrong or something - I'm sorry. If I catch it, I'll go back and fix it. But I couldn't keep myself from writing. Plot-wise, we'll see how things go. But I will tell you, because I jumped ahead, that there's some nsfw stuff later on.

Back in the day we used to call 'em lemons. Ah, memories.

* * *

The test had come back positive.

Cameron twisted her hands in her lap. It had always been a possibility. She had thought about it, about how her life would change, about how she would feel. _Assume it's positive. Then if it is you won't fall apart. Then if it isn't, it will be a relief._

That's what she'd told herself. It was still a blow, straight to the solar plexus. She took a deep breath.

House was staring at her from across his desk, face unreadable, his eyes too, too blue.

"I'm sorry, Cameron," he said, voice thick. "You can take a few days - "

She shook her head rapidly. "No."

He pushed. "You should take some time off. Go..." he waved his hand above his head, "...swim with dolphins, or something."

The way he said it sparked something in her and a laugh bubbled up from her throat. Swim with dolphins! It was halfway between one of those spiritual super-cures and a gift from the Make-a-Wish foundation.

"Swim with dolphins?" she giggled, her fingers raised to her mouth.

House scowled. "I don't know. Climb Mt Everest, whatever it is people do when they need some time."

"Last time I got high and called Chase." She was still giddy and hadn't meant to say that. It was funny, though, and she laughed again.

House wouldn't meet her eyes. He sneered something cruel about Chase that she didn't really hear; the laughter had caught in her throat and she was busy trying to gulp it down before it turned into a sob.

HIV. And she was a _doctor_.

She could still do her job, for the most part. If it was a surgeon, things would be different; anything invasive was off the table. It would change how the team worked. It would change how others thought of her. And who wanted to be treated by an HIV positive doctor?

At least the _telling her employer_ part was taken care of. She never thought she'd be glad for House's tendency to pry. How would that conversation even have gone? She couldn't imagine coming in here, the letter in her hands, to tell House the test was positive. Couldn't imagine how he'd react. No... it was better this way. It would have been weird if he hadn't pried.

He was toying with a pen, tapping it against his desk, watching it as if it was fascinating. "If you don't want to take any time off, that's fine," he said, in his softest voice, the one that sounded like smoke in night air. "You'll need to talk with Dr Henly, get your treatment plan sorted out, and Cuddy..." He trailed off, and gripped the pen in his fist. His knuckles were white.

Cameron looked away, and swallowed. He should be teasing her about Chase. Then she could be angry at him. She could be angry and wouldn't have to think about how her life had changed. Or maybe she'd laugh again, and tease him and make some arch comment about calling _him_ next time... in some other world where she was braver.

"HIV isn't a death sentence," House was saying. "Not any more."

She looked back at him, her brows pulling together. "I know that, House. I'm a doctor."

He nodded, and still wouldn't look at her. She quashed the instinct to reach out and comfort him, hated herself a little for it. She should be looking out for herself. He was looking away as if he'd forgotten she was here, lost himself in his thoughts.

 _That's enough_ , she thought, and stood up with a tight smile.

"Thank you, House. I'm still annoyed that you opened my mail, but..." she took a breath, "it was a lot easier than doing it alone."

He met her eyes then, as if she'd shocked him into it, and her smile twitched and she turned to go. She had reached the door when she heard him clear his throat.

"Do you -" He stopped.

She paused in the doorway, hand on the knob. He was twirling his cane in one hand with a pensive expression. She could see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"If you'd rather not be alone," he said, "you can come hang out at my place." He met her eyes then, face closed off and unreadable. "I don't have any meth, but I have some great scotch. We can watch monster trucks."

Cameron let the door swing shut. It was a tempting offer. Part of her burned to see the inside of House's home. And _monster trucks -_ they'd had so much fun together, on their non-date. It was one of her memories of him she cherished, something she called to mind whenever he was particularly vicious. It reminded her that he could be warm and friendly, that he could laugh. That he could smile at her.

He was looking at her with questioning eyes.

 _Did_ she want company tonight? Or was this the sort of thing that demanded solitude? She felt as if this was something she was meant to process... No, fuck that. Fuck that. She was scared and she was sick, goddamn sick of crying herself to sleep. God, how many nights had she spent worrying about this fucking test? And House was trying to be a friend. He was reaching out.

"I hope you don't expect to score," she joked, and relaxed as he broke into a grin.


	2. Chapter 2

I FORGOT THIS STORY EVEN EXISTED OH MY GOD I AM SUCH A BAD AUTHOR. I got a review (Hi friend! thanks for reading! ) and I was like "wait, what story was that?" and then I came and saw it and thought "oh I remember this!... isn't there more of it?" and turns out there WAS so have another chapter.

* * *

The test had come back positive.

He'd been sitting at his desk ruminating over Stacy when he'd seen movement in the conference room. Someone slipped something onto Cameron's desk, and left.

He was on his feet in an instant and moving to the door that joined his office to the conference room. He was moving almost on instinct to grab the envelope – plain white, her name scrawled across the front in handwriting he didn't know. He hadn't thought... He'd been keeping himself abreast of her test results, of course. He knew they were due. But his mind had been on Stacy, and he was just being nosy as he always was, so when he limped back to his desk and tore the envelope open he stopped short at the letterhead.

His chest clenched. It didn't even occur to him that this was not mail he should be looking at. No. He had to know. It would be negative, and he would tell her and she would snark at him for looking at her mail, and then everything would go back to normal. So he pulled the test results from the envelope with a grim smile.

Even on his dark nights, he hadn't let himself consider the possibility that it was positive. Stacy was in his head, and it was so much easier to focus on _her_ , to let himself fill up with anger and jealousy and spite. Stacy and Mark, Mark and Stacy. Cameron and her HIV test were a shadow at the back of his mind, a quiet whisper, so damn easy to ignore, because of course it would be negative, of _course_ it would be. And Stacy was so much louder than Cameron.

It was just a page of test results, no letter, nothing, and he let his eyes dance down the page.

Positive. It was positive.

 _Fuck_.

His brain tripped into fight-or-flight mode. His chest was tight. But he had to stay here because Cameron, Cameron would be coming to check for her results, she'd go into the conference room and look on her desk and then cast her eyes through the glass and see him there with the paper in his hands.

He could put it back on her desk. She'd see it open, know he'd read it. She'd know he'd know. They'd never have to talk about it.

 _Idiot. Of course you'd have to talk about it._ She'd call him saying she wouldn't be in tomorrow, or something. Tell him she couldn't do _x-y-z._ Changes to her meds. To what she could do with patients. _Talk about it now. Rip off the band-aid._ Then if she tried to quit or anything stupid he would be able to talk her out of it.

And, deep down, he was a bastard and he wanted to be the one to tell her. He wanted to see her face. To know how she reacted to something like this. To news like this. _Go off and fuck Chase again, probably_. He felt himself sneer. No. She'd regretted that. That wouldn't be happening again.

He recognised her slight form in the conference room, bending over her desk. Her gaze slid to him, and she stepped through the adjoining door.

House gave her a tight smile, and indicated the chair opposite.

"You read my mail," she said, accusatory, annoyed. She was clenching. She was scared.

He passed her the page, didn't let her eyes drop to the results before he blurted out "It's positive".

She didn't react. Her eyes were fixed on the paper, on the results, on that _POSITIVE_ picked out in black type. After a long moment, she lowered her hands, and raised her eyes to his face.

He didn't know what he expected her to say and found his lips moving. "I'm sorry, Cameron." He felt distant, barely recognised his own voice. Then he swallowed. What would a normal boss say? "You can take a few days - "

But she interrupted him and he didn't know whether he felt proud of her when she said no. Glad she would be staying. Glad he could watch her, see how she reacted, see how she worked. Glad he could _keep an eye on her_ , but that didn't seem right, suddenly, and he pushed her.

"You should take some time off," he said. He groped for something people did when they had had bad medical news. For something _Cameron_ might do. Something nice. "Go... swim with dolphins, or something."

She laughed. She _laughed_. He hadn't meant to be funny and he rolled his eyes, pulled another example out of his ass.

"Last time I got high and called Chase," she said, her face flushed with amusement.

He snorted and looked away. _Yeah, don't I fucking know it._ "Fucking wombat. Sleeping with colleagues while they're..." He didn't say _vulnerable_. He'd been half-annoyed at the time, half-amused, but now he wanted to beat the little shit with his cane. If Cameron had called _him_ , he wouldn't have slept with her.

He would have hung up on her, but he wouldn't have slept with her.

It was hysterical laughter and it was going to turn into tears. He shifted in his seat as he felt the change in her. Didn't look at her. Expected sobs.

They didn't come, and it surprised him. God, she was stronger than she looked. It made him feel weak, lacking, and he picked up a pen, tapping the tip against his desk. She was silent and again he found himself talking to fill the space.

"If you don't want to take any time off, that's fine," he said. Whatever she felt she needed to do. And he would rather she was here; if she went off to climb Everest he'd have had a hard time keeping track of her. "You'll need to talk with Dr Henly, get your treatment plan sorted out..." It struck him then, suddenly, the reality of it, of how her life was different now, totally different, her future, her health, and he curled his fist around his pen and swallowed against the lump in his throat.

He'd just. He'd been so sure it would be negative.

"HIV isn't a death sentence," he said. He had to say it out loud, so he'd know it was true. "Not any more." _It's not a death sentence. HIV positive patients can live long and fulfilling lives._ God _fucking_ damnit she was too nice a person for this.

"I know that, House. I'm a doctor."

He nodded absently.

But then she was moving, was standing up, and his forehead furrowed because he felt like there were still too many things to say.

"Thank you, House," she was saying and he still didn't look up at her face. "I'm still annoyed that you opened my mail," and yes, he thought, cling to that, _hate me,_ but then she said "it was a lot easier than doing it alone," and he was so surprised he looked her in the eyes.

She smiled at him, and moved to the door, but there were _still things to say_ even if he didn't know what they were. _Stop her. Take her somewhere. Make her talk._

"Do you -" he said, and cleared his throat. She'd paused at the door and he dropped his eyes to his cane, twirling it in his right hand as if it was a prism catching the light.

He swallowed. That tightness in his throat wasn't going away. She was small and delicate and HIV positive and shouldn't be alone to get drunk in the dark and cry. _He_ didn't want to be alone to get drunk in the dark, either, and it's what he'd be doing if he left now. If _she_ left now.

"If you'd rather not be alone," he said, "you can come hang out at my place. I don't have any meth, but I have some great scotch." He didn't know if she liked scotch. What _did_ she like? "We can watch monster trucks," he added, raising his eyebrows. She'd liked the monster trucks. He'd liked how she'd liked the monster trucks.

He was watching her again. She looked... together. She was taking it well. But it was a handsome offer he'd made her and he knew it. Not handsome by anyone else's standards, but she had a soft spot for him, even after... everything.

 _Come on, Cameron. Don't leave an old cripple to drink alone._

"I hope you don't expect to score," she joked.

He grinned at her, and a weight was lifted.


End file.
